


gone for you

by lovelyethereal



Series: Stenbrough Fics [8]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Unresolved Sexual Tension, briefly, just wanna clarify that, not mentioned but stan and bill are divorced from their wives, so they are NOT cheating, stan didn’t die, the rest of the losers are mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:22:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyethereal/pseuds/lovelyethereal
Summary: The latter notices Bill's eyes wandering over his exposed skin, not missing the way his gaze falters over the wraps covering his self-inflicted injuries. He catches Bill's stare again and raises their linked hands to his mouth, placing a kiss the back of Bill's hand.He's definitely gone for him.





	gone for you

Stan walks through the door of the Inn, the dim lights guiding his way to front desk. He hoists the strap of his bag further up on his shoulder, examining the top of the dust-covered desk in search of the service bell.

He taps the round button atop of it, emitting a high-pitched ding from the small metal device. He stands there glancing around at his surroundings for a few seconds longer before he hears footsteps, though they don't seem to be coming from the other side of the door behind the check-in desk.

They travel closer, above him, then creeping down the stairs. Part of him is only the slightest bit fearful. Being back in Derry seemed to have that effect on him, oddly. He looks up at the source of the footsteps and there, halfway down the staircase, stands Bill Denbrough.

He has a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, chewing his bottom lip, worn blue and green flannel hanging off his broad shoulders. He has wisps of gray mixed in with his auburn hair, making him appear older. Which he is, they both are.

Stan shifts under his gaze, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks and nose, and he fixes the strap of his bag once more, smiling awkwardly toward Bill who seems to be entranced or in a stunned silence.

"St-Stan?" He all but squeaks out, descending the stairs much slower this time, as if moving too quickly would somehow cause Stan to disappear from his sight. That is what he had been convinced of the day before, anyway. Stan offers a nod, smiling much brighter now behind the curls that fall in front of his face.

It seems to take ages before Bill is standing in front of of him, eyeing him up and down — Stan tries not to blush harder under his eyes raking over his body — looking for any sign that this might be another trick. "You're really h-here?" He whispers, almost like it's more to himself, trying to convince his mind that Stan was actually standing in front of him.

"I'm here." He confirms softly, only caught slightly off guard when Bill all but launches himself at Stan, arms wrapping around Stan's shoulders. Stan hugs Bill back almost instantly, like they hadn't been apart for a day, let alone 27 years. Stan can't help it when he breathes Bill in, his nose pressed into the crook of Bill's neck.

He smells like Stan remembers, the same cologne he would borrow from his dad, the faint smell of cigarette smoke woven into the fabric of his shirt, most likely from Beverly or Richie. Bill only smokes on occasion, when he's feeling particularly stressed out.

"I- w-we thought you were d-de-dead." Bill stammers, remembering the scene from the chinese restaurant. _Guess Stan Could Not Cut It_. The words seem insignificant now that Stan is standing in front of him. Stan withdraws himself from Bill with a sad, apologetic smile and the latter catches a glimpse of the bandages hidden poorly under the sleeves of Stan's jacket. Around his wrists. Bill fights the urge to gulp around the lump that forms in his throat at the sight.

Stan looks around again, fixing his bag strap for the third time to perch it back up on his shoulder, checking for a desk attendant again and sighing in defeat when no one shows up. As if they were going to manifest out of thin air.

"I don't think I'm getting a room tonight." Stan exhales, dejected. Bill sneaks behind the desk, Stan eyeing him warily. "_What are you doing?_ You're going to get caught." Bill scoffs playfully.

"Oh, yeah, b-by who? Casper?" Bill laughs, reaching up and grabbing a key from one of the cubby holes. Stan rolls his eyes and fights to keep the smile off his face. He doesn't pay attention to the fact that Bill has to stand on his tip toes to grab the key. If he does, he doesn't find it completely adorable. Nope. _Not at all._

Maybe he's lying to himself.

Bill leads the way, his shoulder not-so-accidentally bumping Stan's as they walk in a comfortable silence. "Where are the others?" Bill examines the number of the key one last time and determines they're almost at Stan's room.

"Sleeping, I guess. I was still a-w-wake when you got here. That's why I came d-downstairs." He says. It isn't a complete lie, he was awake. He started falling asleep while staring at the blank white screen of an open word document. The dinging of the service bell was enough to jolt him awake.

"Oh." Stan says and for a moment Bill thinks he's disappointed that it was him that came downstairs instead Richie or Beverly. "I like it better this way, anyway." Bill raises a confused brow in his direction as they come to a stop in front of Stan's door. "Just us. You and me." Stan smiles shyly again, looking down to his feet. Bill holds out the key to Stan's room, pinching the plastic green oval that it's hanging from between his index and forefinger.

Stan reaches his hand out to accept the key, watching with observant eyes as Bill sets the metal in his palm. Bill's hand lingers atop his for a few moments too long, not that Stan minds. Bill's eyes lock on Stan's before briefly flicking down to his lips.

Both attempt to swallow the lingering tension hanging between them. "Goodnight." They say in unison, their hands still touching as they laugh awkwardly. Stan folds his hand around the key, grazing the underside of Bill's fingers as he pulls away, clearing his throat. "Goodnight." His voice comes out in more of a whisper this time, forgetting how to speak louder than this. Bill nods.

"Goodnight, Stanley." Bill retreats backwards, finally turning around when he accidentally bumps into the post at the top of the stairs. Stan has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling as he turns to unlock the door to his room. Once he's inside, he drops his bag to the floor and leans back against the door, his head falling back into it slightly harsher than he expected.

Maybe it would knock some sense into his head, rid himself of any thoughts of Bill. Or him and Bill, in his bed. He shakes his head and exhales, his mind racing. He wonders what's stopping him from heading to Bill's room, other than the unfortunate fact that he doesn't know where his room is.

He pushes his bag against the wall behind the door and sits on the edge of his bed, taking a shoe-clad foot and wiggling the shoe off, doing the same with the other.

He slips on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of light gray sweatpants and flops back onto the bed. He ignores the way it squeaks under his weight and allows his mind to continue racing. Sometime between laying down and his next move, Stan decides to leave his room. He needs to resolve this want stirring within him. He strides over to door and pulls it open, shocked to find Bill already on the other side with his hand balled into a fist, ready to knock. Stan's breath catches in his throat, taking a step back as Bill takes one step forward. They continue this way until Bill is shutting the door behind him.

"I, uh-" He starts, suddenly finding it unbelievably hard to find the words to say. "I-I was gonna-"

"I know." He murmurs, his mouth now inches away from Stan's and suddenly it's like they're teenagers again, sneaking off to empty, secluded spaces so they could finally get their hands on one another. They stare at each other with increased breathing, Bill's breath fanning Stan's face as he arched his neck to brush their noses together. Stan decided at that moment that, even after 27 years apart, he is completely gone for Bill.

Stan tilts his head down to brush his lips over Bill's briefly, softly nudging his nose. Stan's tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip and Bill's lips meet his for a quick peck. He pulls away long enough for Stan to see the smile he's sporting. Stan's eyes fall shut from the feeling, meeting Bill's lips, brief and firm.

Their eyes lock just before Stan meets Bill's lips again in a languid kiss, their lips sliding together slowly as if to savor the moment and the feeling of each other and being like this again. The kiss is cut short when Stan hits the bedpost with the back of his leg, sucking a breath through his teeth after smacking his heel against the underside of his bed while trying to move out of the way.

Stan chuckles lightly, sitting in the edge of his bed, again, and ignoring the way it creaks under the weight of Stan's body, again. Bill's standing between Stan's legs as he dips his head down to make their lips meet once more, this time a little more intense than before. Stan's hands move to rest on Bill's hips, sliding up under the flannel and faded band t-shirt.

Bill makes a noise of approval somewhere deep in the back of his throat, pushing his hands through Stan's curls and tugging gently. Stan shifts backwards on the bed, soon finding himself laying on his back with Bill's body hovering over his with that look in his eyes. Stan smiles up at him and they're kissing again.

It's gentler this time, soft and slow and Stan has his hands clutching the front of Bill's flannel, hand's traveling north to push it off his shoulders. Bill takes the hint and shrugs his arms out of it the rest of the way, tossing it on the floor. It's mildly impressive that he's able to do it without detaching himself from Stan.

They go on like this for another ten minutes, just lips, teeth, and tongues. A sudden movement causes Bill to grind his hips against Stan's in the best way possible. The moan he receives in return is enough to make Bill go absolutely crazy and press himself even closer to Stan. They come up for air a few seconds later, taking in the sight of one another.

Bill let's out a soft chuckle at Stan's hair, completely disheveled and sticking up in every direction. He attempts to smooth out the curls before pressing one more kiss to his lips, hands on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks. Stan stares up at him, Bill's thumbs rubbing softly along his cheekbones. He leans into the touch, smiling sweetly into the palm of Bill's hand.

He takes one of his hands in his, pressing a kiss into it before linking their hands together. The bandages around his wrist catch Bill's attention once again.The latter notices Bill's eyes wandering over his exposed skin, not missing the way his gaze falters over the wraps covering his self-inflicted injuries. He catches Bill's stare again and raises their linked hands to his mouth, placing a kiss the back of Bill's hand.

He's _definitely_ gone for him.

Bill crawls off of Stan so that he is laying next to him rather than straddling his hips. He shifts so that his feet are all that hang off the edge, turning his head to face Stan. The latter is looking up to the ceiling, turning his head with a fond smile and that look in his eyes. The look that made Bill fall for him all those years ago.

"Hi." He whispers and his shoulders shake slightly as he giggles at his own lameness. Bill grins, bumping their foreheads together in their close proximity to one another.

"Hi." His gaze drifts around the room and he wonders if he should head back to his own room. "It's luh-late." He says, casually searching for Stan's response as he sits up, sliding off the edge of the bed. "I'll, uh, see you in the m-m-morning?" Stan's smile falters as he registers what he's saying. "Do you want me to leave?"

"D-do you want me to want you to leave?" He sputters out, his heart pounding so hard that he's afraid it'll jump right out of his chest. He doesn't miss the twitch at the corner of Bill's lips right before he shakes his head.

"No." His smile is much more broad and luminous than before. Stan moves so he's laying against the pillows leaning against the headboard, leaving enough room for Bill to fill the space next to him.

The silence that settles between them when Bill lays next to him is comfortable even after Stan turns over so his back is to him. He hesitates before scooting closer to Stan, placing a hand on his waist and still laying an inch or two behind him. Stan reaches to grab his hand, locking his fingers between Bill's with his hand atop his. Bill moves closer, forehead resting in the space between Stan's shoulder blades.

He feels his eyes start to droop with sleep and it's then that he drops a sweet kiss there, right where his forehead was. Stan's shallow breathing let's Bill know that he's sleeping.

"Goodnight, Stan," He whispers, finally resting his head back down on the pillow.

He's gone for Stan and wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally don't know how to end fics but I hope you liked this!!  
Comment something nice!


End file.
